“The question is… how did you know that?” Saburō replied. “You weren’t supposed to remember.”

“We had help. And now that we know you’re aware of our subject numbers, you need to tell us the truth,” Risa said. She was shocked at how steady her voice sounded.

“I worked for Aokigahara Institute. I was there when it was still just a basement project, until investors came and funded Aoi’s research.” Saburō paused, catching his breath. “Risa, I watched you grow up. Kenji, I was there the day they first brought you in.”

Risa and Kenji exchanged a tense look.

“I left less than a year after Kenji arrived,” Saburō continued. “Around that time, Aoi began to change. He became hungry for power and money. He forgot what Project: SOMA was supposed to be.”

“And what was it supposed to be?” Risa asked with a bitter laugh, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

“Unbeknownst to the world, Aoi had an unusual obsession with gifted humans,” Saburō said as he slowly stood and reached under his mattress. “He wanted to create a place where these people could be understood—where their powers could be studied, enhanced, and most of all, controlled. A community for people with different quirks. He wanted to understand how your minds worked.”

He pulled out an old folder, its edges burned and brittle.

“You’ll find a few of your lab reports in here. I managed to salvage them from the fire before the media arrived,” he said, handing the folder to Kenji.

“Aokigahara ran under the government’s radar,” Saburō went on. “Aoi didn’t want politicians knowing. He feared they’d use gifted humans for their own interests. He never wanted that—his purpose, at first, was to educate and protect.”

“But if… if the lab is gone, and Aoi is dead, why are you looking for the people who worked on his unfinished project?” Risa asked. “And most of all—why did you leave, if Aoi supposedly had good intentions?”

“It’s not my story to tell,” Saburō said quietly. “And I’m not the one searching for the former workers.”

He hesitated, then slowly pushed aside the carpet at the center of his living room. Beneath it was a trapdoor, old wood creaking like it had been waiting years to be opened.

“Whatever you find down there may hold a significant piece of your past… or nothing at all,” he said as he lifted the hatch. “But you’re finally old enough to know what happened—especially now that you’ve started putting the pieces together.”

He stepped back.

“Take care. I’ll be up here waiting for you. And Risa… you haven’t changed one bit. Still the same stubborn five-year-old.”

Kenji and Risa descended the narrow steps. Saburō watched them with a soft, fatherly smile—the kind that came from a bond forged long before either of them remembered.

He left the trapdoor open.

Just in case they changed their minds.

》》》》》》》》》》

The path was dark as Kenji and Risa walked. From a distance, faint lights appeared, giving them their first clear view of the hallway. At the end stood a door with a sign that read FOR AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY.

They approached it, and Kenji pressed a button—immediately triggering an alarm. A woman’s voice spoke from the other side.

“What’s the password?” she asked.

“Resurrexit,” Kenji said proudly.

The door slid open, revealing two figures they never expected to see.

It was Miss Amano, their physics teacher—

and Dr. Aoi, who had been presumed dead.

Miss Amano tried to block the door, but Kenji caught up instantly. Sure, she was older, but Kenji was physically stronger.

“Let it go, Itsuki. They’ve found us,” Dr. Aoi said.

The moment they stepped forward, Kenji lunged at Dr. Aoi and grabbed him by the collar.

“You’ve grown, Eight. Stronger now,” he said.

“My name is Kenji.”

“How did you find us?”

“It was me,” Risa spoke, looking like she’d seen a ghost. “I intercepted your signal. Not by accident.”

“Of course you would,” Dr. Aoi said. “I sent Itsuki to keep an eye on you—that’s why she was at your school. They didn’t even want to hire her at first. She had no teaching experience, but her experience in the field made her overqualified. At least, that’s what they told us.” He straightened his collar where Kenji had grabbed him.

“I know you have many questions weighing on your minds. So, ask away.”

Dr. Aoi stood from his seat and reached out to hug Risa. “You’ve grown so much. You look just like your mother.”

“Why are you here?” Kenji asked first. His voice was steady, but his fists were trembling. “I thought you were dead.”

“Obviously not.” Dr. Aoi exhaled sharply. “Things started falling apart long before the lab burned. My first test subject—one who was never officially recorded—went in the opposite direction of what I’d hoped. He didn’t want to be studied. He wanted to be me. The craters were opened because of him… and because of you, Risa.”

Risa froze. Kenji instinctively stepped closer to her.

“I never intended to shut down the lab,” Aoi continued. “I only wanted it to appear abandoned. A staged accident. A cover story. The government was already circling us like wolves. I was doing what I could to hide what was truly happening… but I knew they’d discover it eventually.”

He sighed. “I survived the fire that Kenji created. And I thought my work was finally over. But then I realized you two were alive. That changed everything. I knew I had a decision to make: take you with me… or leave you to die.”

Kenji’s voice sharpened. “What you did was neither of those things. Why?”

Aoi’s eyes flickered. “I’ll be honest. My original intention was to leave you both. Or rather…” He paused, looking at Risa. “I wanted Risa to perish.”

Kenji stepped forward instantly, but Risa held out a hand, stopping him.

Aoi continued quietly, almost ashamed.

“But ending your life, Kenji, felt wrong. It wasn’t you who opened the portal to the other world. I wanted it to look like a secondary explosion after the fire—no survivors.”

Risa’s voice cracked as she asked, “Why spare us? And why did you want me gone?”

“Because you opened the portal—and I was terrified of what more you could do. Itsuki tried to talk me out of it. That’s why, in the end, we resorted to erasing your memories instead,” Dr. Aoi said, letting out a soft laugh. “I should add, for my records, the procedure seems to lose effect after ten years.”

He studied their faces with something disturbingly close to nostalgia.

“I know it might sound strange, but it was… fatherly emotion. All my test subjects called me papa. And you, Risa—you grew up around me. So instead of ending your lives myself, we brought Kenji to an orphanage and left you in the woods. That way, I could hope someone might find you. And if no one did…” He exhaled. “At least it wouldn’t have been me who ended you.”

“So that’s it?” Risa screamed, her voice splintering with emotion. “You felt bad about doing it yourselves? That’s your excuse?”

Her shoulders trembled, anger and heartbreak fighting for space in her chest.

“And what about Mr. Saburō telling us you went off-track with the project?” she demanded. “That you craved power and money?!”

“It’s true that I developed a hunger for power,” Dr. Aoi admitted. “Scientists came to me, praising my work, asking for details. But it was never about money. I wanted recognition. I wanted to change the world.”

Dr. Aoi let out a silent cry, shoulders trembling. Miss Amano—who hadn’t said a single word since they arrived—finally stepped forward.

“We first received signs that the portal might have reopened two months before I transferred to your school,” Itsuki said. She removed her glasses and rubbed her temples, letting out a long, exhausted sigh. “The lab was never fully abandoned. There were still machines running underground—machines that could ping us if something ever stirred again. Mr. Inoue volunteered to watch the site… and to watch you.”

Risa and Kenji exchanged a look—part betrayal, part realization.

“He was tasked to keep you away from the premises,” Itsuki continued. “Everything was going smoothly. Aoi and I worked behind the scenes. Saburō monitored any activity around the building. And then your friend, Haruto, stepped into that world.”

She paused, letting the weight of those words settle.

“You’re probably wondering why it’s acting up again after a decade,” Dr. Aoi said quietly. “The truth is… we don’t know. That’s the mystery we tried to solve back in 2008. We never imagined we’d face it again.”

He swallowed hard, guilt flickering across his face.

“We failed to stop it years ago. When Kenji burned the laboratory, we hoped that was the end. We told ourselves the portal would close for good.” His voice trembled. “We studied the impossible, but we still fear the unknown.”

“The truth is, Saburō knew from the very beginning why you ended up near the laboratory, Kenji,” Dr. Aoi continued. “He knew when your friend was attacked there, too. He was the one who called the police when that group of hikers went missing. If the world below ever imprinted on them… it would be nearly impossible to track people who weren’t from this town.”

Kenji’s jaw clenched. “So what exactly are you doing? Are you helping people, or are you doing something worse by reopening this research?”

“When I left Tsuyukusa, I thought I’d rebuild the project,” Dr. Aoi said quietly. “But I was haunted by dreams—visions of the children who burned that night.” His eyes drifted to the floor. “I lived a quiet, isolated life with Itsuki in Tokyo. And yes… I kept the lines open. Just in case I needed to finish what I started.”

He looked up at them—two teenagers who once called him Papa, now staring back like strangers.

“But I have no intention of rebuilding the project,” he whispered. “I only want it to end.”

“Papa…” Risa said quietly, catching everyone off guard.

“You told me I was responsible for opening the portal. So it’s logical that I should be responsible for closing it as well.”

“You don’t have to,” Dr. Aoi replied, his voice unsteady. The name she used shook him.

“I will. It took two of my friends, and one of them almost died in there. I can’t just sit around and hope you fix everything.” Risa sighed and took Kenji’s hand. “In exchange, you’ll tell me who I am. My mother. My parents. Even Kenji.”

Dr. Aoi nodded after what felt like a long moment. Then he led them to a storage room filled with files—records of all the children who shared the same forgotten memories.

They were about to discover who they once were, and it would change their understanding of everything.